


hold your shattered pieces close (day 25: break)

by ghostkids



Series: dannymay 2020 prompts [6]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: (in the context of panic attacks. no actual drowning or choking), Autistic Meltdown, Autistic Sam Manson, Autistic Tucker Foley, Blood, Descriptions of Choking, Electrocution, Emergency Rooms, First Aid, Gore, Graphic descriptions of injury, Hospitals, Medical, Meltdown, Multi, Panic, Panic Attack, Serious Injuries, Tucker Foley Is Brave (Danny Phantom), autistic shutdown, descriptions of drowning, shutdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:20:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24385708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostkids/pseuds/ghostkids
Summary: today was never meant to go this way. now they're breaking in a hospital waiting room.
Relationships: Danny Fenton/Tucker Foley/Sam Manson
Series: dannymay 2020 prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748905
Comments: 10
Kudos: 132





	hold your shattered pieces close (day 25: break)

**Author's Note:**

> oops i made the trio autistic. i apparently know nothing about writing anything else. 
> 
> i'm probably going to edit this later because i'm not completely happy with it, but that time is not right now.

sam raises the gun. the ghost blurs, eyes lighting with deadly fire, and danny _screams_ , knocking the ghost away from her, straight to tucker. she doesn't straighten as the ghost disappears with a shriek, hands clenched, gloves tight around the lines of her knuckles. something’s wrong; she can’t pinpoint what─

 _they forgot about the fourth ghost_. 

desperate at the loss of the others, the fourth ghost comes screaming through the wall, poised to kill. danny takes the brunt of the ire, of the force, as the ghost yanks him skyward, tosses him like a ragdoll before he can get control. claws rake across his side. danny doesn’t even scream, hanging limp in the ghost’s grasp. his head lolls, flopping with the force as the ghost shakes him again and again. lightning flickers in his aura and he screams, then, like he's dying all over again.

the ghost tries to bolt, too slow to get away. sam fires the ecto-gun, once, twice, three times. she hits her mark. she's always been the best shot out of the three; with motivation, her aim is uncanny. the ghost screams and drops lower with each shot. all she has to do is keep the ghost busy... busy... _now._ while she'd kept the ghost distracted, tucker moved into position.

he nods at her from behind the ghost, and sam steps forward, advancing with the gun glowing threatening green. “ _drop him,_ ” she snarls, low, dangerous.

the ghost drops him─limp, lifeless, _broken_ ─ to the pavement below. rather, the ghost tosses him, sending him toward the end of the alley. at that same moment, tucker pins the button on the fenton thermos and whips the beam up at the ghost. the ghost doesn't even have time to screech before vanishing inside the device.

sam turns, scanning the alley. empty. a few garbage cans leaning forlornly against the wall, and nothing else. something sets the warning bells in her head alight. the alley is eerily silent. _danny isn't moving_ _._ any other day, he'd be up by now, cracking some sort of joke or trying to make a pun. but not today.

"damn it, danny!" she hisses. he’s slumped at the end of the alley where the ghost dropped him. _he isn’t moving._ she catches her momentum, ricochets off the wall─thankful for her gloves that catch the damage─and skids to a halt with a shower of small stones. 

she drops to her knees beside danny, already tearing her portable first aid kit from her backpack and talking to danny. she slides the disposable gloves from the kit over her own; her own gloves might be ectoplasm resistant, but they aren’t clean, not clean enough for first aid. even if danny's immune system will probably stop any infection, she doesn't want to risk it. 

“‘am?” he slurs, stirring. 

that's a lot of blood. she presses the gauze to danny’s stomach, where the bleeding’s heaviest. “hey, no, no, no, no, don’t go to sleep,” she barks, as his eyes go half-lidded. 

danny mumbles something at her. she can’t actually tell what he said, because he's gone to speaking in ghost and his words are slurred to begin with; he’s talking and he's conscious for now, if barely, so she’s going to take that. she runs down the checklist in her head.

quick assessment: danny’s only half conscious, but he’s conscious. still dazed. concussion or shock, maybe from that electricity, maybe from the drop, maybe both, both looked bad. gash down the side of his head, leaking green─thankfully slowly; the gash on his stomach, and _nope_ , oh, that’s bad, that’s really bad. they can’t stitch that up on their own bad. bad enough that his healing factor, on full, can’t touch the injury before he bleeds out. he can't hold ghost mode forever, even with the triple dose of emergency ectoplasm in her bag. 

then tucker’s there; he’s ripped a piece of fabric from somewhere─sam recognizes the shirt he had on this morning before everything went down. on top of the gauze that sam’s already piled on, the fabric bleeds green, staining her gloves. 

tucker looks down, swears, looks up, glances at sam, lightning quick. his eyes ask the question he’s too afraid to speak, and sam knows he’s already paling rapidly underneath his mask at the thought; she nods, affirmative, and his throat bobs once, twice, before he nods back, standing tall.

the world _skips_ , on fast forward, and sam is holding danny, pressing the makeshift bandages against his side with her own side. danny groans, head lolling farther as she stands straight with tucker steadying his legs.

“hang on, danny,” she mutters. “we’re going to get help.”

sam turns, jerks, hisses out a breath; forgot red was standing there, or maybe she did just get here and sam just missed her arrival. _situational awareness,_ _manson,_ she chides herself. red isn't the guys in white but she could be and─ no. no time for tangents. 

"is- is he okay?" red's hovering, uncertain, her voice behind the mask sharp with concern. where did she come from? (seriously. that board of hers is _too_ quiet). 

“ _damn it_ ,” she spits in answer. “ _no._ ” she can’t say anything else over the lump in her throat. she shifts danny higher in her arms and prepares to run.

"need a ride?" red offers. "my board should carry three plus phantom, and it's smoother than running."

sam tries to speak. chokes. her teeth click together once, twice, but she’s still choking and her lungs are filled with water.

"yes," tucker says when sam can't force the words through the vice grip around her neck. "please."

the world _skips_ again and sam is standing on valerie’s─red’s─glider, tuck’s hands warm, solid on her shoulders, valerie’s hands steadying him in turn. danny groans incoherently, his eyelids fluttering, as the board takes off, but red is right, the board is much smoother than running can ever be─and the world skips _again_ and they’re standing in the hospital, pleading for someone, anyone to help them. red’s gone; she’s injured, less badly, but she needs to get stitched up and she can’t risk the hospital for that. sam doesn’t begrudge her that.

(and two people in masks and the town’s resident ghost are still less conspicious then the latter being with the red huntress.)

they're standing in the hospital and people are staring. danny's screaming, eyes wide with terror, white flickering at his core as his body tries to reject ghost mode at the worst possible time. tucker _shoves_ the emergency ectoplasm into her hands and she doesn't think, just moves on autopilot as tucker holds him steady, lets herself breathe a sigh of relief as the last flicker sparks into nothing, leaving danny still in ghost mode.

then sam’s passing danny onto the stretcher. her fingers thread through his, tapping out in code a message on the face of his palm─ _love you─_ and she knows tuck’s doing the same against his shoulder. 

danny’s more conscious now, enough to tap out his own response on the backs of their hands; the ectoplasm did something, at least, even if all she did was buy him more time. sam thinks the blood might have slowed. she can’t check. 

“if his hair changes color, that’s- that’s bad,” she manages to choke out before they step away, taking danny with them. 

they stop, listening intently as sam rattles off the medical information burned painstakingly into her memory. she runs her fingers over the seam of her jeans; _focus, focus, focus_. “emergency ectoplasm gives him about an hour, maybe two. he’s lost s-so much blood. i don’t know. if he isn’t stitched up before then, his blood type is a-positive.”

then danny’s gone, wheeled away to somewhere she can’t go. injured, helpless, alone. and she’s not helpless but she’s close to helpless. she can shoot ghosts with her ecto-gun and suck them into the thermos; she couldn’t stitch up danny, not this time.

the entire room stares. mutters start up behind them. not every day amity park’s resident ghost goes to the hospital, after all. not every day that amity park gets undeniable proof of phantom’s human helpers existing. she can’t take the scrutiny. she can’t take the stress. her head blares in white noise, hands up on her ears. the room is ringing, sunspots of gold and green swimming through her vision.

“ _damn it!_ ” she spits, turning her baleful glare on them. “ _damn it!_ who are you all looking at?”

_no no no no no no n on no no no no─_

she needs out. she needs out, now. too loud, too much, and she can't breathe. sam stumbles her way to the only empty corner of the room, her legs like lead weights. her legs finally give out as she reaches the corner of the room; she tucks herself on the floor beside the closest chair, back to the wall, and presses her face against her scraped knees. but she’s sitting and sitting isn’t helping. the tears run silently down her face under the mask. _danny's all alone.  
_

tucker's hurting, his body humming with tension, and he must be breaking, too. he's scanning, but she's sure he isn't really seeing the room. tucker's seeing danny back in the alleyway, broken and bleeding out in her arms over and over again, just like she is. only, tucker's always been good at hiding his feelings; too good. he can shut down, push everything away until he can function again, and then break down later. but sam knows now that just because he seems fine doesn't mean he's not hurting just as bad as she is.

she raises one hand. stares at her body like her hands aren't her own. they're stained with green, and she knows her skin will be too, under the gloves. too tired to care, she reach out and taps _love you_ on tucker's ankle.

and tucker’s foot taps out the same words in response─ _love you, love you, love you, love you_ ─as he stands guard for her, his legs pressing back against her legs in silent support.

breaking, together.


End file.
